Amrâlimê-le melin
by omishiloh
Summary: Elf-kind and Dwarf-kind cannot mingle, it is said. But from love comes joy. Tauriel/Kili.
Author's Note: I find I have a tendency to make-up new words in Tolkien's universe; the poor Professor must be spinning in his grave, may he rest in peace. I used arwen-undomiel dot-com and an extremely useful blogger's archives, neo-khuzdul-translator, found at tumblr, for help…artistic license paints a broad picture.

Disclaimer: I do not own _The Hobbit_ , in any of its forms. If I did, I would probably be living debt-free...but I did 'borrow' four lines directly from the film, as they provided the inspiration for this ficlet.

Warnings: AU, movie-verse. Tauriel/Kili.

Amrâlimê-le melin

 _ _'Tauriel.' His quiet voice made her turn.__

The trees carried his messages for her, hidden among the leaves and the soft forest winds.

 _'Kili!' she screamed, desperate to find his heartbeat._

She slipped away on the darkest of nights, when Ithil was hidden even from Elven eyes. She took nothing, not even her bow.

They met East of Erebor, in the beyond of the Lake-town. Fewer walked those leagues, fewer dared live underneath such distant skies. A grassland, where tall creatures roamed and water pooled slowly, was a place not amicable enough for Man, Elf, or Dwarf alone.

 _'I'm not afraid,' he said to her, eyes gently pleading._

He limped badly, leftover marks from the near-mortal wounds taken in the Battle. She pretended to her king that he was dead; as they spoke, she felt the heat unique to the Dwarves bloom beneath her hand.

 _'I cannot,' she answered, but her fingers twitched at her side._

When the news came of Thorin's death, she was able to use the chaos for cover. Fili caught her, espying his brother upon her back. She was grateful it was him and not Legolas.

 _'Take care of him,' Fili said. It is not a command._

Fili took them to the eastern point of the Lonely Mountain, guiding her along secret paths from the Older Days, when Dwarf-wives and dwarflings played in tall grasses, when living deep in stone was barely dreamt of.

 _'I will.' It is not a promise._

She wore the token he tossed her while imprisoned; it swung between her breasts on a leather cord. He wore a feather-fletching from her arrows, braided into his hair. It gleamed red-gold in the sunshine that darkened them both.

 _'Where have you been?' In the same month would two distant rulers stand in anger and challenge, daring their subjects to defy them._

'I have been to the East, where the stars are strange,' she would say to her king. 'Shadows dwell there, like unto Dol Guldur.'

'I have been to the East, where the Mountain ends,' he would say to the dwarf-lords. 'Shadows dwell there, like unto that Messenger from the nameless malice.'

Neither mentioned the memories that dwelt there in truth: building a house beneath a twisted tree, weaving mats to sleep upon, and the long-haired babes guarded by their uncle.

 _'I will fight for whom I love.' It took the strength of mithril, of the Arkenstone to keep secret what pounded in their veins._

She defended the forest, aching for the woodless plains, disguising her hair with rooted dyes.

He secured the future of a mine he no longer cared for, under the name of his brother.

When at last the Free Peoples breathed easily again, rumor spread of a new country flourishing beneath the eastern sun-bathed skies.

Men-folk told stories of a strange people vanishing without a trace, whose smiles lured the unsuspecting into their homes. It was said they could bespell the unwary in a language silken in merriment, but rough-hewn in anger.

The Elves passing overseas carried a legend of a maiden, whose love was so evergreen that a new tree, keenly-scented, bloomed where she was last seen, surrounded by the _yrch_.

Dwarves remembered in song their Dwarven brother who sacrificed himself to protect King Thorin, the one who, by fate or by will, lived on only in the remembrances of his brother who laughed queerly to himself if asked to sing.

The Valar themselves knew not what to call the Mingled Children, but there came, eventually, the whispers of the _bannô-_ _alassenyan,_ the treasured ones.

* * *

 _'I don't know what that means.' She pretended, but, unlike Legolas, he saw through to the pale star of her uttermost being._

 _'I think you do.' His grin was what cast her tumbling over the edge, into a light she never forswore._

* * *

 **Yrch** – orcs  
 **Bannô** – Neo-Khuzdul, "treasure".  
 **Alassenyan** – Quenya, "for my joy".  
 **Le melin** – Sindarin, "I love you".  
 **Amrâlimê** – Neo-Khuzdul, "I love you".


End file.
